My Heart Beneath the Cherry Tree

Dedicated to my dear friend Sam, you left before I did but we will meet again beyond the veil.

The doctor said it was best for my health to get out of the city. “The country air will do you some good,” he grinned at me, “ I’ve set you up in a real nice place, a bit you of the way, but a great place to relax.” As I looked up at the dilapidated hotel with its broken shutters and peeling paint I had the greatest urge to fly back home and punch the good doctor in his grinning face. Unfortunately the taxi had already driven off, leaving a haze of dust above the dirt road as the only reminder it had been there at all. I pulled out my cell phone to hail the taxi back, no bars. I slowly trudged up the stairs, the wood creaking under my weight, I pulled on the front doors tarnished bronze handles, locked.

            “Perfect,” I mumbled heatedly, “Welcome to Hell, population; me. “Hello?” I called out, hoping to find some life in this godforsaken place “Hello? I’m Ken Miller, I have a reservation,” nothing, “look if I could just find a phone… ah forget it.” I trudged down the porch steps and pushed my way through the hedges on the side, trying to get at a window. Finally I reached one and peered inside, the place was dead, it looked like one of those haunted old mansions you see on TV. I heard something rustle, maybe there was life inside after all, was that movement just now? A chill went down my spine.

            “Hey mister.” I nearly jumped out of my skin as I turned to see who was talking. It was a young woman, probably in her late teens, with dark curly hair and piercing green eyes that seemed to see right through me. She said something to me and pushed a pair of glasses on her nose, the glasses masked the glare of her eyes and they seemed just a normal green. Odd, I felt as a mouse after being hypnotized by a cobra.

            “I’m sorry what did you say?” I asked coming back to reality.

            “I said, ‘if you’re a robber you sure came to an out of the way place to steal from.”

            “Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not a robber, my name is Ken Miller, I have a reservation here.” I said hoping the relief didn’t sound in my voice; I thought it was a ghost.

            “Oh, geez, I’m the one who should be sorry, my name’s Emma; I’m the owner and manager of the Cherry Tree Inn. I would have been here to greet you earlier but I got a little sidetracked.” She shrugged in an amiable way that made me forget how angry I was for being stuck here and she held out her hand in greeting. As I reached to shake her hand, a force pushed me back making me nearly fall over. I looked down and saw a large dog of odd and obviously mixed breed. How I had missed him before seemed shocking especially since I had always thought that I had a great sense of surrounding, though I hadn’t noticed Emma either. “Sam! You should be nicer to our guest.” Emma said trying to sound angry at the beast, though it was hard for anyone to take her seriously because she was still smiling. She gave up her façade of anger and knelt down to hug the dog’s neck. “This is Sam,” said Emma, “He’s my best friend and my bodyguard, he should be more behaved but I spoil him rotten. He really is a nice dog he just gets a little jealous when I show anyone else attention.” Emma got back up and dusted off her knees. “Well, let’s get you settled in shall we?”

            “I would have come in earlier but the doors locked, do you always lock your guests out?” I said a bit gruffly, my old bad mood starting in again. Emma looked at me oddly.

            “It’s not locked.” And as she said this she pulled on the handle and the door smoothly swung out.

            “B-but I just pulled on that door and it wouldn’t budge!”

            “Well sometimes it gets a little stuck I guess, come on inside its getting dark.” I tuned in the direction Emma was looking in and saw the sun, and orange ball of fire, sinking down into the hills below us. Then I turned and followed her inside to the front desk. The interior seemed more alive now than it had looked when I peeked into the window. The lights were on and the place had a warm cozy feeling to it, like a summer’s breeze had just blown through. As I was signing the guest book I took the chance to get a better look at my hostess. She didn’t look a day over nineteen, she wore blue jeans and a dark green sweater, her hair I could tell now in the light was a dark chestnut that curled to frame her round face. She reminded me of the pictures of woodland elves I’d seen in fairytales. The dog, Sam, had lain himself a bit away from the desk and was watching his mistress flutter back and forth, as she reached for keys and papers. He looked more like a normal animal now than the beast I had thought he was. He was still a large set animal, with short multicolored hair and a long slightly curved tail. He was a collage of color, black, white, brown, tan, red, gold and a little grey around the muzzle that betrayed his age. I decided to make amends with the beast, seeing as I was going to be here for a week, why not be friends? I held out my hand to him, he sniffed it and lazily wagged his tail. Good enough for me. “Here is your key Mr. Miller, your in room 13, up the stairs and to the left. It’s the best room in the house cause you can see the cherry trees, though it is a bit early for them to be in bloom.” Emma smiled at me, “Dinner is at seven, breakfast at eight, and lunch at noon. Anything else just ask me okay?”

            “Emma you look way to young to be owning or managing anything, and where is everyone else? The other workers, the guests.” Emma shrugged again.

“I got this place from my parents, as for guest and workers it’s just me and Sam here, well you now. And as for my age, well I’m older than I look and a lady never reveals such things.” Emma laughed and walked off towards what I later found to be the kitchen, Sam grunted and followed her, his nails clicking on the wooden floor. I climbed up the stairs to my room. The room itself was a bit old-fashioned but clean and comfortable. The view was breathtaking. I could see the whole valley below me; the hotel was nestled into the mountain. Their was a garden below me, a large grove of what Emma had said to be cherry trees and then a steep drop off a cliff in to a valley below where I could see a nearby town. When seven came around I followed my nose to the dining room where I had a wonderful dinner of roast beef, fresh beans, mashed potatoes, and of all things cherry pie. Emma sat at the table and ate with me, it was a warm and comfortable meal and when I finished eating I could scarcely breathe I was so full. The week passed cheerfully. Whether I had wanted company or not it seemed I was stuck with Emma and Sam who after watching both their joyful ways and their clumsiness (the later mostly Emma) I nicknamed the bumbling duo. They would take me out on picnics and hikes. In the evening if I could sit up I would regale them with tales I had heard or stories I would make up. Towards the end of the week it decided to rain. We spent the time in the warm living room. I sat in a deep recliner and drowsily sipped wine, staring at the fire in the large fireplace. Sam who had taken to me by then was sprawled at my feet, lightly snoring. Emma it seemed was reading a book.

            “Mr. Miller?”

            “Ken, please”

            “Ken, are you an author?” That woke me a bit, how did someone this far in the country know who I was, had I told her? No then she wouldn’t be asking.

            “Yes, I am, or I was.” Thinking how bitterly my last work had been reviewed.

            “Did you write Autumn Sun?” I hesitated to answer, Autumn Sun I had written nearly eleven years ago. It had been well received but there was always a group who had something bad to say.

            “Yes I did.”

            “Well… Will you sign my copy? It’s my most favorite book; I’ve read it at least a dozen times.” I sat up and looked at her, Emma looked eager and for the first time hesitant. Slowly I shook my head; it has always been my policy never to sign autographs, especially when I was as bad in with the critics as I was. It was my tried and true that I could always rely on to remain constant. Emma’s face fell a little, and then her smile perked up again. “That’s okay,” she said, “It’s not like I needed it. It was great to have even gotten to meet the author.” I smiled back at her, feeling a bit guilty.

            I came down to breakfast the next morning still feeling a bit guilty, the girl had gone out of her way to make me feel welcome and I couldn’t give her one lousy autograph? As I opened my mouth to ask Emma for the book she interrupted me. “Today is your last day here Ken, your going home this evening.” This jolted me back to reality, I had forgotten that my stay here was only a week and never had I had a week so short. “You could stay here forever if you wanted.” Emma said looking at me as though she were half joking. I contemplated this for a good while; it would really be nice to stay here forever. The place was warm and cozy and I really cared about Emma and Sam. But there was something in the way Emma had said forever that put a chill down my spine.

            “Sorry, I really wish I could stay but my editor would have my hide if I didn’t come home, I’ll come and visit you soon though I promise.” I held my hand up in the scouts sign and Emma laughed shaking her head.

            “There’s something I want to show you, come on.” Emma pushed me out the door and we walked through the grove of cherry trees to a secluded spot on towards the edge of the cliff where only one little cherry tree stood. “Mom planted this tree when I was born; she said it was my special tree. I used to love sitting here and looking down at the town, reading a book or playing with Sam.” Emma looked down at the town wistfully, “I really love that town, at night it looks like a fairy village, lights twinkling in the dark. But I can’t go down there anymore. Sam and I are here.” I was about to ask her why she couldn’t go down when I heard the crunch of tires on gravel. The taxi was here and my time was up. “It was really great meeting you Ken, you go on ahead and I’ll meet you in a bit. I want to look a little more; I never get tired of the view. I turned to go to the taxi man who was now shouting out for me, I called back and ran over to the man. When he saw me he sighed relief and came over to me.

            “Man, I am so glad that you’re ok. When I left you here I didn’t know that the place was abandoned, I thought you’d be dead by now.”

            “What are you talking about the place isn’t…” I looked at the inn and stopped what had been a cozy solace during the week was now an isolated ghost house. I had forgotten how I had once seen it. The door was swinging ajar and my bags were in the foyer. I turned and looked at the driver “What about the girl? What about Emma and Sam?” the driver looked at me as though I was crazy.

            “There used to be a girl here, Miss Emma. Her family owned the inn. Miss Emma and her dog went out for a walk one day and never came home. Later we found their bodies on a ledge. Seems they fell of the cliff out there. Buried her in that there grove of trees. She died about ten years ago, the family up and left after she died. Look son if you’re trying to scare me with some ghost story its working. Hurry up or I’ll leave you behind.” I ran into the foyer and grabbed my bags. I had scarred myself with that ghost story. On the way out some thing caught my eye. It was my book and a pen on an end table in the living room. I grabbed the book and the pen and ran to the spot Emma had shown me earlier that day. There underneath the cherry tree lay two grave markers, I opened the book to write my first autograph when I stopped. What do you write to someone who is dead? Thanks for being a ghost host? Finally it dawned on me. I scribbled my note down on the first page and placed the book between the markers. Then I went back to the driver. “Where were you?” the driver asked.

            “I was just leaving a note to Miss Emma, for her hospitality.”

            “Oh yeah?” the driver scoffed, “what did you write?”

            “To Miss Emma, always keep smiling. I’ll come back soon.” I grinned as the driver shivered and we started to drive off. I would come back and when I did my stay would be indefinite, Miss Emma had stolen my heart away and I would come back for it. As we left I watch the cherry trees, they were beginning to bloom.

 

END

Author's Note

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